


Mated and Matched

by brokenlittleboy



Series: Commissions [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Dubious Consent, Family Drama, Knotting, M/M, Mary Finds Out, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Omega Sam Winchester, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sam Winchester, Pregnant Sex, Season/Series 12, Sex Pollen, Smut, Unsupportive Mary Winchester, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: Sam and Dean are forced to mate due to a sex spell during a hunt. Things are not pretty after Mary finds out and discovers Sam is pregnant.





	Mated and Matched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhyaenv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyaenv/gifts).

> This was a commission for the lovely Victoria, thank you for all your support and the wonderful prompt!
> 
> Hope you like it! <3

Sam pulled his suitcase out with a weary sigh. 

The hunt was straightforward. Close by. Open and shut.

But they’d just gotten Mary back, and Sam didn’t want to leave her so soon. She’d assured him that she’d be okay, and Sam knew she would.

It was more him. He didn’t feel ready to go out into that world yet, to walk back into an old routine when he’d just established a new one.

He packed efficiently, just clothes, toiletries, weapons, computer, and heat suppressants.

Another thing he would miss was Mary’s beta presence. She was great at conflict management, and had a keen sense of smell, always aware of what everyone felt and what everyone was going through. She knew when Sam was near his heat, even with his suppressants, and would make him tea. 

Okay, so maybe he was a little selfish. He was going to miss finally having a home and a mom.

Also, with John and Dean, he’d been the only omega in a room of alphas, which had been exhausting. Having Mary and Dean and alpha and beta and omega felt refreshing. Balanced.

Still. The world needed them, and he knew life on the road with Dean like the back of his hand.

He zipped his suitcase shut. Dean knocked on his door--perfect timing.

He grabbed his things and headed out.

They hit the road only a few minutes later, Mary waving and watching them go. Sam watched her turn into a tiny speck in the rearview mirror before she was gone.

***

The motel room was a mess.

Sam had printed an entire library’s worth of articles, police records, online research on monsters. The papers were taped to every available square inch of wall, creating a collage of chaos. 

Dean wrecked his own tornado through the room, in clothes and pizza boxes strewn everywhere. 

Another body had dropped since they’d arrived. A mated omega, torn to shreds. The town had a few of those now, and the occasional dead alpha, and the town was in a stir over it, invoking curfews, omegas staying at home, the whole nine.

It made Sam uncomfortable. He felt eyes staring at him, an unmated omega, as he walked through town. Alphas turning up their noses. Dean was tense.

He forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. The monster. He’d narrowed it down to a list of monsters known for messing with pheromones. Maybe alphas were raging out or something. They’d dealt with succubi before that had that effect.

The door slammed open and Sam whipped his head up. Dean came in in his fed suit, holding a little evidence baggy. 

Sam’s eyes zeroed in on it. He stood. “What is that?”

Dean grinned. “Evidence.”

Sam blew air out his nose. “Yeah, I knew that. What kind of evidence?”

“Some kind of flower, some pollen stuff,” Dean explained, shaking the baggy in front of Sam’s face. Sam snagged it from him, peering at it up close. It was an orange flower, something that looked like a small hibiscus. 

It was good. It was a lead. 

Sam did more research while Dean did whatever. There wasn’t much information about the flower, but he found a website that might help him identify it. Sam checked on him intermittently, and noticed Dean was fiddling with the evidence baggie.

After checking on him for the fourth time finding him doing the same thing, Sam looked up from his computer. He cleared his throat. Dean looked over. “Dude, you okay?”

Dean looked back at the bag, staring at it intently. “Hmm? Yeah,” he answered, sounding distracted.

Sam frowned. “You sure? You seem kinda obsessed with that thing.”

“Yeah, I just… keep smelling it,” Dean said. “You don’t smell that?”

Sam took a sniff. “No, not really. I--”

Dean opened the bag.

Sam stood up and was over to Dean in a second. “Dean, you don’t know if it’s dangerous!” Sam cried out. “Close that.”

Dean pulled the flower out. His fist closed around it, and a puff of pollen exploded into the air, like little golden dust motes.

Oh. Now Sam could smell it.

He couldn’t smell anything else.

Whatever it was had a profound effect on his body. It fought past the suppressant he’d taken that morning, and woke his body up. Woke it up all the way, heart thumping, blood flowing, pupils dilated, hole twitching, heat unfurling from his stomach.

Sam hadn’t undergone a heat since he was a teenager, and that one had almost killed him. He grabbed at his stomach, stumbling, and Dean was in his space a second later.

Dean’s eyes were dilated, too, and his nose was twitching. He looked at Sam, then leaned forward and pressed his nose into the spot behind Sam’s ear, where his scent was strongest.

The feeling of an alpha there made Sam’s knees go weak, his eyelids fluttering. He was hard and his hole was slick, contracting and aching painfully. 

Dean hissed. He could smell it on Sam.

Sam lost himself after that.

Dean did too.

They were an unmated omega and an unmated alpha, and Sam was in heat, a sharp, potent heat like nothing he’d ever felt, completely overtaking him and turning him into an animal, a doll.

Dean was in a rut, and Sam knew he smelled delicious.

Ruts made an animal out of anyone.

Details didn’t matter after that--histories, facts, names, relationships, nothing. All Sam knew was his hole, and the smell of an alpha.

Clothes were ripped apart and thrown aside with rough growls. Bites were shared. Sharp teeth dug into Sam’s shoulder, marking him, and his entire body went loose as warm blood pooled in his clavicle. 

Mating.

He felt the scar form on his shoulder. Mating scar.

He was pushed onto his belly, and a fat cock pushed into him a moment later. He was barely aware of himself, but he knew he was sobbing. He needed it. He couldn’t think straight. He just needed.

The cock pushed into him roughly, deep enough to burn, and all Sam could do was lay there while he was fucked. It didn’t take long before the knot swelled on the fat cock inside him, locking them together.

Pulses of thick come filled him, never stopping, swelling his belly and leaking out of him. For hours they were pressed together, come spurting into Sam and keeping him immobile and swollen. All he could feel was his mark, his fullness. 

After a few hours, well into the deep dark of the night, the spurts got dryer, until there was no come left to pump into Sam, and slowly, his belly returned to normal size, and the knot inside him shrank.

His blood pressure stabilized, and he passed the fuck out.

***

Sam awoke with a bitch of a headache. A bitch of an everything-ache, actually. His whole body pulsed, awash with pains. 

His hole ached.

There was something inside it, keeping it stretched and sensitive.

That was enough to thrust him into wakefulness like an ice bath. His breath stuttered, and he froze, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? What happened? Oh, god.

There was a cock in his ass.

Behind him, Dean grunted him his sleep, and Dean’s smell washed all around Sam, calming him. A stronger smell, familiar but newly cloying.

The smell of a mate. An alpha mate.

Dean’s smell.

The puzzle pieces clicked together and fragments of memories from last night hit Sam like bullets. The flower and its seductive pollen, and the violent heat he’d been thrown into. Dean biting him, marking him, mating him. Knotting him and coming inside him.

Sam was going to be sick.

Dean’s knot was almost fully gone. Almost being the operative word. Sam wanted it out of him. He wanted to get up. He wanted to take a shower. He wanted to wake up from this dream and return to reality.

He hadn’t realized his breaths were getting hitched until Dean made a sleepy noise of concern. “Sammy?”

Sam stopped breathing. He felt Dean stir behind him, a hand barely fluttering over his hip, and then a sharp noise as Dean went through the same stages of realization as Sam had.

“Dean,” Sam said, feeling lightheaded. “Get out of me.”

“Fuck,” Dean swore. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” Sam said, a little rougher.

“Yeah, uh, yeah, hold on,” Dean stuttered. “Gotta--”

He pulled out. 

It was dry, and too much for Sam’s hole, burning sharply, and he hissed in pain as Dean’s knot left him.

The moment it was gone, come dribbled out of him in a little warm river. Sam grabbed up the sheets with shaking hands, wrapped them around his waist, and fled to the bathroom.

He took a shower.

He took a scalding shower, scrubbing himself down once, twice, three times. He didn’t want to, but he cleaned inside himself, making sure any leftover, uh, anything leftover was gone from him. He rubbed himself pink, then red.

He stepped out of the shower and made his way to the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in his shocked, glassy eyes, his pale complexion, the bags under his eyes.

The curved, half moon scar on his right shoulder.

It was overwhelming. Sam pushed away, focusing on getting his pants on. Moving too much caused his back and hole to throb and his eyes welled up. Literally everything was a reminder. There was no escaping this.

Like clockwork, the bathroom door opened just then and Dean walked in. They both froze, staring each other down for several beats.

The moment broke when Sam looked away to shrug his shirt on and flee the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, only able to breathe properly once he was in a different room from Dean.

Things were so fucked.

***

Sam found the flower. It was called a heatflower for its uncanny ability to induce heats. Often used in medicine. The one they were dealing with had a spell on it, though.

Witches.

Of course it was fucking witches.

At least it made the rest of the case easier. Sam knew without a doubt which woman (pun intended) they’d talked to was responsible. At this point, his witch senses were impeccable.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, hair wet from a shower, and Sam wasted no time before launching into his spiel, explaining the flower, the curse, the witch, everything. Dean stared at him silently, eyes flicking downward every couple of seconds, and Sam pulled his shirt up over his marking scar before continuing. 

Dean didn’t talk much, just agreed to going out there and killing the bitch. 

Sam didn’t talk much, either.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur that Sam efficiently blocked out as it happened. They’d found the witch, she’d mocked them, making fun of Sam’s heat, of how easy they were, how alphas and omegas deserved to rot and betas should rule, etc. Dean shot her, then shot her again, they burned her body, and fled before the cops arrived. They made sure to leave a bunch of witchy paraphernalia and damning evidence around so the town would know for sure who’d been responsible for all the issues.

And here they were now, on the road, zooming home going twenty over the speed limit, side by side, not speaking a word.

It was torture. 

They couldn’t go on like this for the rest of their lives. It was impossible.

“Dean,” Sam begged, unable to keep silent any longer. “We have to talk about this.”

“Shut up,” Dean barked, loud, sharp, and Sam’s teeth audibly clicked as his jaw clicked shut.

Newly mated omegas were very subservient. Sam swallowed thickly.

“Shit,” Dean cursed. “Sam, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“It’s okay,” Sam said weakly.

“Okay?” Dean echoed, laughing. “None of this shit is okay.”

“But it happened,” Sam said. “And now we have to deal with it.”

Dean didn’t say anything.

“You can’t run from this,” Sam said, throat thick. “Please don’t run from this.”

Dean didn’t respond, just turned on the radio and pushed the pedal, the landscape around them blurring as the car raced through the countryside.

***

When they got home, Mary was waiting for them.

Sam’s stomach sank. It was bad enough dealing with this with Dean. He didn’t want to hear anyone else’s thoughts on what happened.

Mary was just as perceptive as ever, and she kept her distance from the boys as they left the Impala and stormed inside, frowning at them in worry.

“Did you solve the case?” she called at Sam’s back.

He nodded at her, sending her a look of apology before disappearing into his room.

***

Sam paced his room like a caged animal.

His stomach was rolling with anxiety. He couldn’t stay in here forever. Dean couldn’t avoid him forever. The truth couldn’t hide forever.

The omega in him wanted his alpha, making his throat thick with frustrated tears.

A particularly violent cramp hit him and he sat on the edge of his bed, body going hot and cold in waves. He felt like shit.

He white-knuckled the edge of the bed as a deep wave of bruising pain rolled over him. He forced himself to stand, hunched over, and limped his way to his bathroom.

He flung open the medicine cabinet, shaking a couple of pain pills into his shaking palm and dry swallowing them. 

He stumbled back into his room and fell onto his bed, curling onto his side and letting out a feeble whine.

Things never could just get better, could they? He didn’t know what was wrong with him. All he could think about was the pain.

A knock at his door took him by surprise.

“Sam, sweetheart?” Mary called through the door. “Can I come in?”

Sam bit at the inside of his lip. “Not feeling too well,” he called, his voice cracking. He winced as another wave of pain bruised his insides.

He waited for Mary to respond, for the pills to kick in. He heard nothing new, felt nothing knew, and resigned himself to living the rest of his life curled up in fetal position feeling miserable.

He was feeling a little better, but still tender, when there was another knock at the door.

“Sam?” It was Mary again. “You’re sick. I brought tea, and a compress.”

Sam softened. That sounded perfect, and he’d missed her, and a part of him was desperate to tell Mary what happened, to vent to anyone.

Another part of him immediately told him what a disastrously stupid idea that would be. How could she react? Could she smell it on him? 

It was too late. Mary opened the door, slipping inside with a little smile. She had a cup of steaming tea in one hand, and a worn cloth compress tucked into her elbow. She sat on the edge of his bed. Sam sat up, wincing, a trace ache ringing out from his hole, and shuffled back until he hit the headboard. He accepted the cup of tea from Mary and took a sip. His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. That was just what he needed.

“Where does it hurt?” Mary asked.

Sam gestured to his lower abdomen. Mary nodded, leaning forward to lay the compress over his belly. It was hot and its warmth spread through him. He wasn’t out of the woods, but Mary had helped him see where the exit was.

Mary frowned when Sam moved the compress a little lower. “You hurt there?” she asked. Her nostrils flared as she scented the room, and oh fuck.

Sam finished his tea and put the empty cup on the nightstand. “Mom, I can--”

She reached forward and pulled his shirt collar aside to reveal his scar. Her breath hitched, and her hand went up to her own clavicle, where Sam knew an old and silvery scar of her own was. For her, a beta, she’d asked for it, wanted it. For Sam, it was the alpha’s choice.

“That’s from Dean,” she said, her voice faint. She looked at Sam and all Sam saw was intense worry. “Sam, what happened?”

“It was the hunt,” Sam managed. “A witch.”

“Oh, Sam,” Mary said, “I’m so sorry.”

Sam went red. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, and not so soon. “Mom, if you could--” he cut himself off as another wave of cramps stole his breath. Mary sat with him, helping him breathe through it until it passed.

She looked even more worried when Sam finally came back to himself. “How long has this been going on?” she asked.

“For about an hour,” Sam answered. 

He watched Mary do some mental math. Her face shut down, going unreadable. She pat his thigh. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam could only watch mutely as Mary hurried out of the room. She came back a moment later and pressed a small object into his hands. “I’ll leave you to this,” she said. “Let me know when you can talk.” 

She smiled thinly before she practically ran out of the room.

After the door shut, Sam looked down at the object in his hand.

A pregnancy test.

His heart stuttered in his chest, his entire body going hot. He closed his eyes past an onslaught of tears.

Mechanically, he got up and went to the bathroom.

***

He looked down at the test, numb, empty, cramps gone, body wanting an alpha.

Two lines. 

He was pregnant.

Pregnant with Dean’s--his mate’s--child.

***

Mary was a woman on a mission.

She made a beeline for Dean’s door. She knocked in three loud bangs.

Dean’s annoyed voice called out, sharp. “What?”

“I’m coming in,” she announced instead of answering, and pushed open the door.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed. His room was a mess and he was too. His head jerked up when Mary stormed over him.

“I know what happened,” she said before Dean could speak.

Dean’s face went white, and he looked down avoiding her gaze. “Mom--”

“I know about the flower, and what you two did,” she said. “And I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Dean looked up.

“But you have to deal with this,” she continued, louder. “You can’t leave Sam alone out there.”

“What about me?” Dean snapped. “I’m going through this, too.”

“You’re not the pregnant one!” Mary exclaimed.

Dean’s eyes went huge. They stared at each other for several tense beats. “What?”

Mary blinked. The fury on her face mixed with uncertainty. “You didn’t know?”

Dean swallowed, throat thick. “No.”

It took Mary a moment to recollect herself. “Well, it’s true, and it’s a problem,” she said. “You two are mates now, and over time, hopefully you’ll be able to act unmated again, Sam might have to go on stronger suppressants. I know it’s early to talk about this, but Sam should end the pregnancy--”

Dean stood up. “I’m going to him.” He strode over to the door.

Mary followed behind him, hovering over his shoulder. “Dean--”

He whirled around, up in her space. “That’s my mate,” he growled, “and my child, and we will decide what to do with it.”

Mary looked up at him in horror. “You’re not thinking clearly,” she said. “That’s your brother--”

Dean didn’t stick around to hear the rest of what she had to say. A beat later, and the door was slammed in her face.

Mary stared at it for several beats, thoughts whirling.

***

Sam slowly got into bed, body still aching, drawing the sheets up over his waist. The cramps were gone now, but there was a phantom feeling inside him, a new knowledge that wheedled at the back of his brain, never leaving him.

So much had happened to him in so little time. He just wanted the world to slow down for a moment, for time to stop, so he could process.

But he knew it wouldn’t. Omega pregnancies were fast and efficient. The cramps would continue. He’d probably wake tomorrow with morning sickness. And he couldn’t avoid Mary and Dean forever, especially not with all of his instincts crying out for contact, for anything.

Sam’s heart pulled. He didn’t want to go through this alone.

Like Sam’s thoughts had summoned him, the door swung open just then, revealing Dean standing there, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Before Sam could speak, Dean was in his space, sitting on the edge of the bed and feeling his forehead. His eyes creased in concern, and his scent filled the room, lowering Sam’s blood pressure. “I heard from Mom,” Dean said. “How are you feeling?”

Sam flinched away from Dean’s touch, even as his body screamed at him in protest. He laughed past a throat of tears. “How do you think?”

Dean’s face twisted in sympathy. “Fuck, Sammy.”

In that moment it was so hard. It was just so hard.

Sam’s face crumpled as the first tears came. “Dean--” his voice cracked.

“Shh, hey, c’mere,” Dean soothed, brushing Sam’s hair away from his forehead. Dean climbed onto the bed, sitting besides Sam, shifting around until he was under the covers with an arm around Sam. Dean drew Sam close, pressing their bodies together, and Sam shivered, turning and burying his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. 

Dean’s arm rubbed up and down his side. He took a moment just to breathe, just to be held.

It was a new sensation, being comforted by his mate, his feelings projected out into the open like that, but there was a degree of lifetime-old familiarity beneath it, of Sam having nightmares as a kid and Dean scooping him up into his arms, whispering to him that it would be okay.

Dean had always been by his side. Now, it was scary, it had been thrust upon him, all of this, but it was with Dean. If it was anyone else, Sam would be unable to cope.

But it was Dean.

Sam gathered his strength and pulled away, looking up at Dean with glassy eyes. He tried to laugh. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

Dean laughed back, smiling down at Sam. “Hell if I know,” Dean said. “But we can figure it out, right?”

All barriers down. Sam looked plainly at Dean. “You really think?”

Sam felt the fluttering uncertainty in Dean’s stomach as clearly as if it were his own, but he felt the belief that pushed through it, the love and concern, like pillars in the sea. “We always do.”

Sam nodded. He bit his lip. “About the baby--”

Dean hissed in a breath. He put a palm flat against Sam’s belly. “Sammy, listen--”

“No, you listen,” Sam sighed. He blinked up at Dean. “I know we didn’t choose this but I--I want you. I want to be with you.” Sam took a breath. “And I want to have this baby with you.”

Dean was quiet for several beats. During those few seconds, Sam’s body was awash with tightly-coiled anxiety, fearing the worst. What if Dean wanted to keep his distance from Sam, wanted no part of this? What was Sam thinking? Their life had no room for this, no potential for a future--

“I want that, too,” Dean said quietly. He moved his hand from Sam’s belly to his hair, tucking strands behind Sam’s ears. “Fuck, Sammy, I want it all.”

Those words made Sam feel warm all over, his body going loose with relief. Beyond the basic, calming feeling of having his alpha by his side, knowing that Dean was on the same page as him washed away waves of fear, calming his stomach.

“How are we gonna do it?” Sam whispered. “The world’s kind of screwed up.”

Dean snorted. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “We got each other, we got Baby… don’t we deserve something, Sammy? Don’t we deserve it?”

Sam couldn’t fight that one. A part of him had always wanted, desperately, with fervor, but had never ever thought he’d have it.

“It wasn’t bad,” Dean spoke up out of nowhere.

Sam was comfortable now, relaxed. “Hmm?”

Dean cleared his throat. “When we were. Y’know.”

Sam went hot. He was still a little sore from their mating, from Dean’s bite and knot. He shivered. “Yeah.”

The arm around Sam squeezed at his side, at his hip. “Yeah,” Dean said, voice low and gravelly. “The way you felt…”

Sam knew. He remembered it as viscerally as anyone remembered their mating and he knew Dean did, too. He looked up at Dean, eyes dark. “Kinda wish we still had that flower.”

Dean growled low in his throat, and a beat later, he was draped over Sam, hand possessively splayed on Sam’s thigh as he kissed him senseless. 

Sam’s body reacted immediately, submitting to Dean, a moan emanating from low in his throat as Dean made his lips slick with spit.

They made out like teenagers, hands wandering, exploring, groping. It wasn’t long before Dean had his fingers in Sam’s shirt, unbuttoning it and helping Sam shrug his shoulders out of it. The moment Sam’s shoulders were bare, Dean’s eyes flashed, his face full of animalistic hunger as he eyed the shiny scar on Sam’s shoulder.

He traced it with his thumb and Sam’s eyes fluttered.

“Mine,” Dean growled. 

“Yours,” Sam whispered, as his hole grew hot and slick.

Dean could smell it. 

The rest of their clothes went along with Sam’s shirt until they were naked, bodies heaving. Dean’s fingers found their way inside Sam, hooking up, making him whine. Dean kissed at his neck, dragging his teeth over Sam’s mating scar, and Sam couldn’t take it.

Dean got with the program quickly, on the same wavelength as Sam. Dean was inside him a moment later, and tears beaded at the corners of Sam’s eyes at how good it felt to be full again, to be one with his mate.

They fucked, they made love, they entwined, one ending where the other began. They didn’t knot--they didn’t need to--but Dean came deep inside Sam, tugging a sharp and delicious orgasm out of Sam, making him cry out.

Sam fell asleep in Dean’s arms, sweaty and gross and naked. 

There was nowhere he’d rather be.

***

Sam woke up first. Dean was a heavy sleeper, snoring quietly with an arm holding Sam close, dead weight keeping him from moving. Sam didn’t mind. He was warm, loose-limbed and sleepy.

He looked up at Dean’s face in wonder. Dean’s stubble, his full lips, his freckles. Dean’s eyes flickered under his eyelids in a dream. Sam wondered what Dean was seeing. 

It was still surreal. The stirrings in his belly, the feeling of Dean all around him, the sense memory of Dean inside him. They were going to have a future together, a child. A new kind of family. 

The truth was, Sam felt so old. After hell, after Purgatory, after all the messes with angels and demons, he felt tired. Sometimes, all he wanted was quiet, stillness, peace.

And in this moment, he had it.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d get to keep having it.

A knock at the door interrupted his fantasy.

Sam sat up, pulling the sheets over his naked body just as Dean stirred and Mary opened the door.

The sight of her pulled him into full wakefulness. She took in the two of them together, naked, and her eyes went big. She backed away, averting her eyes. “I’ll come back.”

“No,” Dean said from behind Sam, startling him. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it to both of us.”

“You’re not decent.”

Dean pulled the sheets up a little further. “That better?”

Mary was clearly unnerved by his frankness. She looked to Sam. “You’re okay with this?”

Part of Sam was submitting to Dean, to the firmness in his tone, his conviction.

But another part of Sam just wanted to tear this band aid off as quickly as possible, no matter how much it hurt.

“Just say it,” Sam said.

Mary’s shoulders sagged. She came in a little farther, just enough to lean on the dresser. “Look at you two,” she said, voice cracking hopelessly. “This isn’t right.”

Sam swallowed, drawing up his courage. “It was never gonna be anyone else, Mom,” he said, voice small. “I know it’s fucked up, but I want this.”

That only seemed to upset Mary further. She shook her head, eyes going red. “You’re newly mated, you can’t see sense. And the pregnancy--”

“We’re keeping the baby,” Dean growled. “And if you try anything, if you go anywhere near Sam…” Dean trailed off, and Sam could tell he was posturing. Mary could tell it, too, on the receiving end from a threat from an alpha.

Her first tear fell. “I can’t stand by this,” she said.

“Then don’t,” Dean said.

“Mom,” Sam tried. Dean was in full alpha mode, but Sam wanted to reason with her.

Mary backed away. “You can’t see it,” she said. “You call me when you can.” She addressed only Sam with a sad smile. 

Dean bristled, but Mary turned and left, closing the door.

Silence reigned, Sam’s heart pulling, Dean tense behind him.

Sam rolled over to face his brother and mate.

Dean was still glaring at the door.

“Dean,” Sam tried. “She wants what’s best for us.”

Dean snorted, lip curling in a small snarl.

“She does,” Sam persisted. Dean’s eyes flicked down to his and Sam tried to entreat him with his eyes. “Give her time.”

“What if she doesn’t need time?” Dean asked, voice rough. “What if she needs us apart?”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s waist. “Then she won’t get it.”

Dean nodded, looking a little less pissed. He smiled down at Sam, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’m just.”

“I know,” Sam laughed. “Me too.”

Dean’s eyes went even lower, to Sam’s belly. His expression softened. “How you doin’?”

“I’m okay,” Sam answered honestly. “It’s still a little scary.”

“A little?” Dean said. “Mighty brave of you, Sammy.”

“Shut up,” Sam shoved him playfully. He sobered. “Dean…”

“Hey, shh.” Dean immediately went into comforting mode. “We’ll figure it out.”

“What about right now?” Sam demanded. “What about what comes next?”

***

Dean shoved their last duffle bag into the trunk and slammed it closed with a solid thunk.

Sam stood by his side. It was a cool day. Winter would be here soon. The wind blew his hair around as he exchanged a considering glance with Dean.

Sam tapped the cool trunk of Baby thoughtfully. He nodded his head back toward the Bunker. “We’ll be back,” he promised.

“And soon,” Dean added. Sam looked over at Dean, letting the gratitude wet his eyes.

Dean held his glance for several beats, loaded with all the new and strong love in their hearts. He looked away, clearing his throat. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said. “Let’s not waste any more time, yeah?”

And away they went.

***

At first, Dean wouldn’t hear about Sam going on hunts, protesting about how Sam was carrying their child, how it was dangerous. After a lot of persistent encouraging and reassurance, though, Sam convinced Dean to let them go on a hunting tour of sorts.

They drove around from city to city, meeting up with friends, both recent and old, frequently seen and not. They met up with fellow hunters, monsters and witches that were just barely allies, and dozens of others scattered about in hidey holes and universities and strange houses.

They informally resigned.

They helped Jody and the girls clear out a vampire nest, giving them parting advice on hunting, on working with a partner, on family. They gave them an updated phone number and email with the promise to stay in touch and help whenever they needed it.

They did the same with Garth, with Cas and other angels, the occasional demon.

Some of their friends had special talents, or friends in high places, leaving Sam and Dean with a slightly plush bank account in their new fake names, complete with backgrounds and identities that would clear even the strictest of credit checks. For a new house. For a job. For insurance.

For a strange kind of life. 

They left advice and promises everywhere they went, but they also left a few lies.

Just enough that if a monster heard something through a grapevine, or a demon found intel, something would be off, off in some specific way that would let Sam and Dean know where they’d gotten the information from.

They took precautions.

Extra salt around the windows. Cleansing rituals, muting spells that hid them from certain snooping creatures. 

And Dean became impossibly more protective, snarling at alphas that so much as smelled Sam. 

Sam thought about Mary often. He left her voicemails that went unanswered. They drove past the Bunker many times, but Sam could never get himself to go inside, and Dean showed less interest. He didn’t even know if she was still there. He wanted to go back to the bunker someday, with or without her, but he wasn’t ready yet.

It would be a healing process for all of them. All three of them, including Mary.

Maybe someday.

After finishing a ghoul hunt with an old buddy in Washington, their tour was over. Weeks had gone by since they’d last been at the bunker, and Sam had spent more and more mornings sick.

He stood in the bathroom of their most recent motel with his shirt off. 

He stared at himself in the mirror.

More specifically, at his belly.

He couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn that the place between his hip bones pushed out a little more than usual, that he was a little rounder above the belt. He put a hand on his stomach, butterflies fluttering in his chest.

Dean knocked once on the wall before peeking his head in the bathroom. “Hey. You…?”

He trailed off when he saw Sam shirtless, hand cradling his belly. Dean didn’t speak, didn’t blink, eyes glued to Sam’s lower abdomen. He slipped into the cramped bathroom beside Sam. They met eyes in the mirror.

Dean quirked a smile. “You think?”

Suddenly, Sam’s throat was full. He turned to Dean and a watery laugh bubbled out of him. 

Dean frowned. “Hey. You good?”

“It’s just.” Sam smiled. “I think… we did it.”

Dean’s smile mirrored him, soft with glassy eyes. Dean put a hand on Sam’s belly and leaned in to kiss him, deep and firm and full of all the love in his heart. “Yeah,” Dean said. “I think we did.”

Sam couldn’t help himself after that. He threw himself into the next kiss, pressing Dean against the bathroom wall. Dean’s hands flew to his hips, tracing circles across his swollen belly, and the passion seized them both.

Time became a blur, and along with it went belts, pants, boxers. Sam found himself naked on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and panting as Dean kissed across his tummy and screwed another finger into his slick hole. 

Sam flipped their positions, pressing little bites into Dean’s happy trail before licking broad stripes up and down the shaft of Dean’s cock. Dean grunted, hands fisting in Sam’s hair, and Sam took Dean’s cockhead into his mouth, closing his eyes and sighing as he memorized that familiar flavor, sucking Dean as good as he could.

He worked at Dean long enough to feel a knot forming. Dean pushed Sam off and then pressed him on his belly into the bed, biting at his neck and collarbone before pushing into Sam. It was a tight fit, painful, but good.

Dean rocked into Sam, gentler than Sam expected, muttering about taking good care of his pregnant omega. Dean fucked him sweet and good, bringing him to the edge enough times to drive Sam crazy.

Sam crawled out from under Dean, making Dean lay back as Sam rode him.

Dean’s eyes were glued to his rounded stomach as Sam rocked back onto Dean’s cock. It hit just the right spot, making him toss his head back and moan, his toes curling. Dean was swearing nonsense, looking at Sam like worship, and his knot fattened.

Sam picked up the pace, and soon enough, he was rubbing that good spot, and he saw stars as he came. Dean growled, low and deep, fucking up with his hips and shoving his knot past Sam’s rim. 

They were connected, then, and Dean came inside him. Sam blacked out, coming a second time, and when he awoke, he was swollen in more ways than one, naked on his side with Dean spooning him from behind, knot still inside him. 

It was perfect. Each time they had sex, it became more natural, it felt more intense. Sam could see them in a house somewhere, curled up together in a king-sized bed.

And, for the very first time in his life, Sam could picture the future.

He could picture himself in school, at a job, doing research. He could picture Dean coming home in a jumpsuit smeared with motor oil.

And he could picture their home, small but whole. Protected.

And their child, laughing bright enough for all the world to hear.

For once, Sam could see a life for himself. 

He had hope.

The End

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Victoria and to all the lovely readers out there!
> 
> <3


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